


Oh, Horcrux

by Rebldomakr



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Drabble, Fire, Gen, Harry is just crushed rn okay, Murder, Violence, fun stuff really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-04 03:57:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14584443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rebldomakr/pseuds/Rebldomakr
Summary: Harry is alive to watch Hogwarts burn.





	Oh, Horcrux

Hogwarts is on fire.

Harry can do nothing, but watch.

In the night sky, its windows lit by candles and lamps and magic glistened like stars. Now, it burns like a miniature sun. The fires are many and large, like thousands of fat fingers tearing apart the castle. Stone is crumbling, burning into carbon black bricks. Ghosts are fleeing the grounds. You can almost hear the screams of the portraits being consumed alongside the students and teachers who refused to surrender. The sun-like brightness lights up the sky and its surroundings. It could be beautiful, to the right pair of eyes.

The Moon and stars seem to be mourning alongside Harry. They look dimmer than they usually do. In truth, they are as bright as they normally are, but they’re covered by a mighty black cloud spewing from the flames devouring the castle. If it was daylight, they’d look like the omen to a deadly storm.

Voldemort’s eyes are gleaming their genocidal red, reflecting the fire back towards Harry. “You know of Phoenixes, don’t you? The old man had once.” He says. Harry can’t help but note the past tense and he realizes he hasn’t seen Fawkes in a long time.

“What did you do to Fawkes?” Harry asks.

“There are different breeds of Phoenixes. Some are reborn in their ashes, others have their offspring from their corpse. Some ignite themselves magically, others create sparks with rocks in order to kill themselves.” Voldemort disregards Harry’s question very obviously. “Their flames can be seen as rebirth or reincarnation, but it’s always about starting anew.”

Harry stares at the Dark Lord. “Why should I care about this?” He says, snappish.

“Hogwarts will be rebuilt. It will be reincarnated into something bigger, better.” Voldemort says. “I have ensured everything of value, historically and monetarily, was taken out of the castle before it was lit. I will rebuild the castle with the remains, with new wood and stone and marble, then fill it with its old jewels and new ones. I’ll replace the staff and invite new ghosts. New, new, new! Combined with the old, of course. It’ll be a rebirth, a new school for a new generation of wizardry.”

“A propaganda machine.” Harry spits.

“No.” Voldemort says. “A school.” He reaches forward and grasps Harry’s neck.

When Harry feels himself wobble, he remembers he’s sitting on a boat. So close to the Dark Lord that he can feel the other’s wizard’s warm robes. The movement in the water distracts him from the cold touch on the back of his neck.

“I killed Fawkes. I made the bird cry until I obtained three vials full.” Voldemort says. “Phoenixes are such stubborn birds.” His voice tilts and his face contorts into smug glee. “It was quite the task.”

Harry’s stomach clenches. “You’re terrible.” He whispers.

“Yes.” Voldemort agrees. “I also collected its feathers, its blood. When I killed it, I kept it from burning so I could collect its meat and bones. Do you know how to create a Philosopher’s Stone? It requires a lot of different parts from Phoenixes, Dragons, and a bit of Dementor.” He chuckles.  His laugh is strangely mirthful.

Harry wonders, with the Horcruxes and now, apparently, the Philosopher’s Stone, how anyone would be able to kill the Dark Lord. He failed. His friends are alive, but they will probably fail, too.

Screams begin to fill the air, muffled by distance. Harry wishes his head would ache, just slightly, but Voldemort looks so goddamn happy that instead of burning, it’s begun to thrum in a _good_ way. Still, his stomach sours and scrunches.

“Who are you killing?” Harry asks. He’s trying hard to sound loud. _Strong_.

“Everyone who fought against me. Those who did not fight or fought alongside my Death Eaters will be spared, even the muggleborns.” Voldemort answers. “I ordered them not to use the Killing Curse tonight. I told them fire and heat. Those screams,” He pauses, as if the screams that are growing louder is a  symphony, and he says, “Those screams are from the likely hundreds being burnt alive.”

Harry feels like vomiting.                                   

“Darling Horcrux,” Voldemort coos, reaching forward with both hands and cupping his head, holding it snugly between his palms, and he digs his nails into Harry’s skin. “Don’t feel sadness, they were going to die eventually.”

“They shouldn’t have died today.” Harry gasps out, eyes stinging. He tries hard to hold back his tears. He doesn’t want Voldemort to have that, too.

“Perhaps.” Voldemort agrees. “But they have. Hope their deaths are not in vain. Hope the rest of the world understands the warning and will stand down before they, too, die similarly.”

The Moon begins to show. Voldemort tugs Harry closer. The Boy-Who-Lived and Horcrux is safely brought against the Dark Lord’s body, crushed against his hard cold figure. He does not see the Dark Mark light the sky or the black clouds separate, even as they thicken, enough for the Moon’s light to cascade down upon them like a spotlight.

“Dearest of mine, how can I make you happy?” Voldemort asks.

“I want my friends to live.” Harry says. He begins to sob.

Voldemort tuts and pets the back of Harry’s head. “They will die tonight, my Horcrux. Instead, I shall bring you new ones, yes?”

The Horcrux continues to cry, face smashed against the Dark Lord’s chest.

**Author's Note:**

> hiiii it's been so long since I wrote a HP fic. I know this is shit, but I hope you enjoyed anyway


End file.
